At last his guard went off in a bad temper. A soldier on horseback remained with him.
'Come on, old man,' he said, 'no one will have anything to do with it.'
Yakob glanced at him; the soldier and his horse seemed to be towering above the cottages, above the trees of the park with their flocks of circling crows. He looked into the far distance.
'It was I.'
'You're going begging, old man.'
Again they began their round, and behind them followed the miller's wife and other women. His legs were giving way, as though they were rushes. He took off his cap and gave a tired look in the direction of his cottage.
At last they joined a detachment which was starting off on the old road. They went as far as Gregor's cottage, then to the cross-roads, and in single file down the path. From time to time isolated gunshots rang out.
They sat down by the side of a ditch.
'We've got to finish this business,' said the sergeant, and scratched his head. 'No one would come forward voluntarily… I have been ordered….'
The soldiers looked embarrassed and drew away, looking at Yakob.